Death Korps of Cintra
by Simpli
Summary: Ciri, orphan, adopted by the Witcher Geralt and Yenefer the sorceress. Hunted by every kingdom, blessed/cursed with a gift of the Aen Seidhe. And currently part of the bandit gang "The Rats" Trooper 561-103-083, former opera singer and now part of the Death Korps of Krieg, because of reasons in her past. How will this two meet? In a world of mutants, psykers and heretics?
1. Chapter 1

**First Chapter**

**Silence**

Trooper 561-103-083 ran through the black mud, pulling on her boots, getting thrown headlong into a shell-hole as a heretic Lemann Russ appeared on top of the enemy trenches, heavy bolter fire tearing into the ranks of her fellow troopers as the advance against the heretics with fixed bayonets.

Relentless the 561th Death Korps of Krieg heavy siege regiment marched forward over the blasted, mud soaked battlefield, while the heretics demonic artillery send barrage after barrage into the lines of the stoically advancing guardsman.

561-103-083 stood up, feeling as if her coat was now weighting twice as much as before, a thick layer of hardening mud, covering her rebreather as her left hand scratched away the thin layer on her gasmasks lenses.

Firmly grabbing her Lucius Pattern No.98 Lasgun she jumped out of the shell-hole finding herself back in the line of her comrades as they slowly closed the space to the heretics who fired wildly with makeshift autoguns, which crude bullets sometimes harmlessly bounced off or even backfired, killing the heretic who tried to use this primitive weapon.

But even then, the sheer mass of enemy fire made it possible for 561-103-083 to see one or two greatcoats falling to the ground with every meter they got closer to the enemy.

Bringing her lasgun up she took a swift shoot at a heretic heavy stubber team,

getting rewarded with the silence of it, while one of the heretic's had slumped over the heavy stubber, coating it red after the lasgun's beam had severed his arm.

And finally 561-103-083 was standing on top of the trench, next to her a grenadier hold down his flamer, the weapon's burning red flame engulfing the bodies of the former PDF Troopers as the 561th Siege Regiment leaped into the enemy trenches.

For 561-103-083 it became a dirty and confusing melee, rushing forward with her bayonet up, driving it into the guts of a traitor sergeant, turning it around inside of him, so his flesh would stop sucking on the blade. Getting caught in this situation by a lunatic heretic, with the bayonet immobile and him drooling like a mad dog, 561-103-083 let loose of her gun, running towards him, her helmet of plasteel lowered and carried by the force of her small sprint into him, making him fall backwards, his tattered PDF uniform getting coated by more mud, covering the emperor forsaken eight pointed symbol of chaos he had scratched into his chest plate. Reaching to her belt 561-103-083 pulled out the short_ Spaten _normally used for digging the trenches the Death Korps where famous for, it's edges were now sharpened and reflected they red light of the emperor-forgotten planet as 561-103-083 swung it, cracking the heretic's skull with a sick noise as his body twitched a last time. "THE BLOOD GOD DOESN'T CARE WHO'S…", where his last words as the steel shovel silenced him, blood flowing like everywhere around them…maybe except from the flamer.

Walking back 561-103-083 picked up her lasgun, pulling it out of the heretic sergeant's guts, letting the wound finally gasp for the heavy air of the forge world.

Slowly the Troopers gathered again, the grenadiers starting to clear up the remaining pockets of resistance with fire and bayonet in HIS name.

No further orders came, no artillery of any side started again to tear up every inch of earth which lay in the no man's land, no Valkyries strafed heretics or guardsman. It was silent.


	2. Chapter 2

**Second Chapter**

**The high C**

But the Guardsmen didn't need any further orders, they did what they did so often and sometimes even with a bit of joy in their work.

While the one group gathered the fallen Krieger and heretics, 561-103-083 and the majority of the troopers went to their new front trench, snarling at the rebel's poor work they started to show what a true Death Korps trooper can do with his simple _Spaten_. Delve of spade after another the poor supply lines the heretics had back to their fortress were closed and instead deeper and firmer defensive tranches were dug parallel to the imperial front line.

561-103-083 had her lasgun on the shoulder, her spade sinking into the mud nearly effortlessly, only to be stuck when it needed to get out again.

Sighing under her mask she tore it out of the wet mud again,

the earth gasping like the open wound of the heretic she killed.

She briefly stopped for a moment:

"_Damn Planet, Damn useless PDF, damn Opera critics. I should…",_

in this moment something in the back of her mind jumped at attention:

"_This Trooper knows no I, this trooper earned no name yet, breach of regula…"_

561-103-083 shook her head trying to get away the voice, trying to stop the feeling of shame and failure she got from this small mistake.

Looking around from under her masks lenses she saw the other troopers silently at work, only the sound of spades and mud hitting the ground warning the enemies of the God-Emperor of their coming Doom.

She shuddered for a moment, when was the last time she talked to someone?

The report some days ago when quartermaster 79 wanted a report on her ammunition supply?

Last month? When she got into a fight with captain delta?

Inside of her the small voice of the perfect trooper was already starting to make her feel guilty as the very LOUD voice of the proud opera singer spoke up,

shouting at the small trooper that she wouldn't shut up when someone criticizes her mother's singing in front of her.

A small smile played over Elise's lips, hidden by the gasmask and the heavy helmet covering face and head.

This only lasted a moment before 561-103-083 continued her work on the trench, only getting back her sense of time and surrounding when it was finished,

deep enough for a trooper to stand in it without the fear of getting a crude autogun bullet to the head and with a fire step to unleash the wrath of the imperial lasguns into the heretics that would dare to attack HIS imperial guard.

561-103-083 looked up into the red sky, the small sun of this system was going down behind the horizon, no light was being seen on the scarred battlefield and

the night would be short and pitch black.

The grenadiers of the 516th were already looking forward to it.

Silence meant nothing of the war and without further orders the Krieger would follow their last ones, taking back the enemy trench…and the next and the next.

Until none was left or all of the Guardsmen death.

Like ghost the grenadiers crossed the no man's land towards the next heretic trench, ready to get in with a swift night raid and out again.

A small part of 561-103-083, the one she often damned for its cowardice and missing dedication to the Emperor, was glad the she wasn't taking part in it.

But duty never ends, even less in a Death Korps of Krieg.

Standing Guard in the trench, helping the quartermaster to give out the energy packs for the lasguns and helping to dispose of the corpses with a melta bomb.

Finally 561-103-083 got a small moment of rest and sat down in a trench,

after the past months it already felt like home,

her usual corner was here, over there was the sloppy work of 561-103-047 who always missed the same spot of the trench's bottom, making his spot a small puddle of mud.

And right across her was the small shrine dedicated to the good emperor, 561-104-32 always carried it around with him, always scratching a space for it into the trench's wall, showing the emperor in golden armour, his sword striking the vile demons of chaos.

561-103-083 unconsciously made the sign of the Aquila and sends a small prayer to the emperor.

"_The Emperor protects."_

Barely escaped her lips, making her sometimes belief the prayers were the only reason she could still speak.

The greatcoat wrapped tightly around her she closed her eyes for a moment,

trying to get some sleep.

_The Opera…the applause … red and gold … singing and dancing…_

…_her role…her arrogance…_

_her families shame…their gloating…_

_561-103-083…561-103-083…561-103-083…561-103-083…561-103-083_

_ This trooper knows no nightmares_

Buzzing woke her up from her uneasy sleep, opening her eyes she saw…flies…millions of them, denser than the morning fog of this world, they were swarming through the trench, trying to dig through the uniform of the Krieger.

_"Emperor be praised, they don't get through the suits and rebreathers"_

Seeing the living were no target for them the flies started to feast on the death's blood, that still covered the earth, burying them selves into the rooting flesh of the death heretics in the no man's land, the flesh wittering and peeling off from the bones, as it rooted away, the bones turning into a sickly yellow.

_**Chaos**_

Every trooper could feel it and ran to their fire steps, the long barrels of their lasguns pointing at the dust clouds in front of them, as something came closer and closer to them, jovial laughter and chuckling getting carried by the air and towards their trenches: Nurglings.

A 4 feet high flood of infested demons of Nurgle stormed towards the 516th, laughing and cackling over their masters newest illnesses.

"_KOMMT ZU PAPA", _they shouted mockingly towards the Kriegers,

just before the first of them were hit by the lasgun fire and a few heavy bolters, starting to tear deep gaps into their lines, but while the guardsmen only numbered around a bit more than a thousand, nurgles small servants were attacking with seemingly indefinite numbers and the anger of someone who's toy didn't work.

"_Embrace Papa!" _

"_Take of your masks and indulge in the embrace of Nurgle!"_

Obviously annoyed their flies didn't work they jumped into the trenchs, dozens of them getting burned to crisps by flamers or torn to pieces by the heavy bolters, while only more and more followed them.

561-103-083 aimed her lasgun roughly into the nurglings hoard, there was nothing to miss. A nurlings head disappeared, coating its closest kin with gore, which only lead to them chuckling madly and pointing at the decomposing corpse.

One leaped at her, forcing 561-103-083 to jump from the firing step, kicking the small bugger with her heavy nailed boots, sending it flying over the trench's top again. Looking around herself she could see the Nurglings getting hold back for the moment…at least.

Then she saw 561-103-047 slipping in his own self made puddle, falling backwards as dozens of the lesser demons leaped at him, furiously stabbing into his body with their rusted swords and claws, biting him, tearing off his uniform and chuckling madly as his flesh decayed on his bones, only angered by the fact their victim wasn't crying our moving.

He gave his life for the Emperor, 561-103-083, thought as she pulled out a hand grenade and threw it into the pile of Nurglings around his body.

"_Now he sits by the Emperors golden Throne…",_ she thought,

"_He wont need his body"_

The nurglings giggling a moment before looked down at the grenade in their midst, and let out a long squeal as it exploded and showered 561-103-083 in the remains of her comrade and the nurglings.

Someone pulled 561-103-083 on her shoulder, looking around her comrades were pulling together into smaller sections of the trenches, fighting off the nurglings with bayonets and spades.

Just as 561-103-083 was close to one of this defence pockets a gloaming shadow was cast one the trench…

"_**WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO MY CHILDREN?"**_

The voice of the Great Unclean one was booming over the fight, as the nurglings ran back towards it, starting to dance around it and tell it jokes, trying to lighten its mode after seeing all the dead nurglings and no living infested Krieger.

Gently it patted a nurgling.

"_**Your Papa will take care of this my children!"**_

The Unclean one bloated itself up and let out a shower of Acid and chemicals on the Kriegers, who hold their position stoically and fired everything they got on the big demon, only making it laugh as it had long since forgotten pain.

And with a jump of agility, which seemed totally misplaced on such an ugly and fat creature, it was between the Krieger, eyeing their uniforms unpleased,

their acid prove tissue, repealing his first try to disease or kill them.

With a soft swing of his big rusty mace the only thing that remained of the guardsmen where the red stains of blood and flesh on the sides of the trench,

while the nurglings rushed forward letting their flies eat up eagerly, already plotting the next disease they could unleash.

Trooper 561-103-083 stood frozen at her place, her lasgun brought up aiming at the demon, which had just effortlessly smashed her comrades into a formless pulp.

"_OHHHH! OHHHH! ONE IS LEFT!"_

The Unclean one cried out in joy, his massive body moving towards 561-103-083 before grabbing her. The touch of his hand restricting her from any moment and making the acid proof layers of her Death Korps uniform vaporize slowly and she thanked the Emperor that she didn't have to smell the demon.

Which suddenly stopped and eyed her curiously, turning her around in his hand before smiling greatly and getting into a great laughter?

"A whole planet infested! Dozens of races distinct? Millions death? You will be a good follower of Nurgle"

He cried out, the nurglings falling into his laughter, while 561-103-083 wanted to shout she was only serving the God-Emperor of Mankind and as soon as he let's her loose she would…

In this moment he threw her into the air and a warp portal opened, purple vines flickering in the air as she entered the warp, only shielded by the protection of Nurgle…the last she would have expected.

But then 561-103-083 saw something….

_A girl A unicorn_

_ A white haired mutant_

_A circle of psykers_

_ A wide river_

Report in the Imperial Guards HQ:

Today's looses: 32 235 235


	3. Chapter 3

**Third Chapter**

**The Rats**

The coachman's eyes widened in shock and he tried to get his horses and carriage of the road, as a big purple red portal opened in the middle of the street.

"_Magic! Get out of the way!"_

One of the four horseman yelled, turning his horse a moment too late, grabbed by the warp portal his cries echo over the empty street for a moment, the other riders panicking and riding away as fast as they can, from the foul place of magic.

Inside the carriage an elderly matron was holding close to young baroness, whose face was young and terribly pale as she heard the cries of the unlucky rider.

"Calm down baroness…", she sighed mentally at the character of Casadei's new baroness, this child was just to easily scared…but who could say anything about that? After all she's the last one of her family, the war with the Northlings and the cleansing thanks to their gracious emperor Emhyr var Emreis, Deithwen Addan yn Carn aep Morvudd own secret service.

Just a short distance away the Rats, were looking at the occurrence watchfully.

Iskra's ears twitched uncomfortably as the elven blood in her veins, seemed to react to the hostile purple and red hole in mid air, holding close to Giselher, who watched it with hard eyes: unsure if their ambush should still take place or if they should give up.

Kayleight was grinning his most nasty smile, hearing the death cries of the rider, as he was pulled in the warp and torn to pieces, while Asse watched this with see able malaise, tugging on his studded black leather jacket nervously.

Reef meanwhile only whistled shortly and sneezed loudly, the last dose of fisstech starting to show its effects.

But the strongest reaction showed the young Falka, burying her fair head in the arms of Mistle, who hold the younger girl close to her and brushed through her hair.

"_What is it Falka? Do you know something like that?"_

Mistle asked carefully, feeling the eyes of the other Rats focused on her lovely Falka, each equally clueless about this…thing.

Ciri felt frustration and fear, she could hear small voices whisper in her head, and in the flickering warp gate ghostly faces appeared, their expressions distorted into faces of pain and agony, before getting swalled by the purple waves again.

Just before the portal spit out 561-103-083, who landed on the dusty road, the grey dirt sticking to the green gore that indicated her brief meeting with the unholy servants of Nurgle.

Right after this the portal dissipated, leaving the single guardsmen, who slowly staggered onto her legs. Hands blindly searching on the floor around 561-103-083 before they found her lasgun, closing themselves around this so familiar object, holding close to it, while 561-103-083 still tried to adjust her gaze, the sudden light blinding her after the short exposure in the warp, which still sent shivers down her spine.

The coachmen let out a shrill cry as he saw, what could only be described as a demonic monster, a trunk instead of a nose and ghostly glasslike openings instead of eyes that stared at him. Jumping down from the coach box he made his way into the forest, cursing that nothing the baroness servants could do, would be more horrible than getting into the grip of this demon.

561-103-083 watched the civilians escape with lukewarmness, already used to the fearful reputation her kin seemed to have built up with every imperial citizen who she met until now. Sighing she let her eyes wander over the landscape, trees and a small river, surely not the forge world anymore, even the sky was blue and the air seemed clean, if something would force her to take of her rebreather that was good to know.

The Rats stared at this…thing…with wide opened eyes; seeming vaguely human it wore some sort of uniform, having a helmet but missing the usual breastplate or at least some studded leather jacket, only wearing some sort of heavy coat.

A peasant maybe? A northling?

Unlikely, they looked at the long crossbow the soldier was holding, the usually end of it formed like a big tube and below the long crossbows main body, which was missing the arms to pull back the string for the bolt, was attached some sort of short blade or dagger.

None of the Rats had seen anything like this strange thing before, most likely it was a weapon, but what for one?

Giselher snarled and raised his sword shrugging towards the other Rats;

"_Let's see what or who this is!"_

He cried out before galloping steadily towards the carriage, carefully making a bow around the strange figure, facing its back as the other Rats circled it, raising their swords to jump on it if needed, Iskra already smiling fiery while Falka seemed to be joyful again, thanks to the prospect of getting to kill someone.

561-103-083 hold her Lucius lasgun relaxed, humans.

The one fussy with jewelry and with bright almond-shaped eyes seemed to have slightly pointy ears, reminding her of a elder, but some flaws on her skin already showed she wasn't one of this foul Xenos.

"**Where is the next imperial space port?"**

The Rats where taken back by the silent, emotionless voice that talked to them in some unknown language. Looking closer they saw the soldier was wearing some kind of mask, tired looking eyes could be seen through two glass lenses.

Asse rode closer to the soldier, his horse nostrils blowing against the mask.

She sighed annoyed, a feudal word, horses and swords.

Not that 561-103-083 didn't respect the Death Riders with their Krieg-horses and power sabres, but this…she stared at the wall of living flesh around her, the swords pointing at her uniform, being not sure herself how much attention it would offer.

"**Holy Terra! … Emperor!...Imperial Guard!"**

Maybe these keywords would make this savages react, they couldn't be ignorant of the Imperium of Man and the God-Emperors light.

Giselher looked wondering at Iskra, trying to make a sense out of what this unknown Soldier just said. _"Your kin's language, Iskra?"_

Iskra shrugged and swayed her dark, luxurious hair before licking her lips, addressing the unknown soldier, the carriage behind the group already long forgotten.

"_**Who are you? Where are you from? Can you understand the old tongue?"**_

561-103-083 smiled faintly at these words, old tongue? Common?

She laughed a bit before addressing the girl with the overburdened jewels, reminding her of herself when she was new in the opera and got the first few performance and was allowed to stand in the applause of the romanticist.

Iskra raised her eyebrow at this sudden sound. Was it a laugh just now?

It sounded more like the faint ring of a bell, but this dark gloomy soldier couldn't possibly… _**"Can you understand…"**_

She was interrupted by 561-103-083, who raised a hand and started in slow common: **"Civilian…",** or bandits how it looks, **"Where can I find the next star port?"**

The other Rats looked at Istra expectantly, who moved her lips silently trying to understand the strange pronouncing of the soldier, still failing to get some sense into the strangers words. _"I'm not sure…"_

Just as Istra started Reef sneezed again, gathering the angry stares from the others on him, as Mistle slapped him, looking back to Istra and nodding.

She took a deep breath: _"This soldier is searching for a…port to the sky."_

The Rats looked at the strange soldier, who was just standing there like a statue, only the raising of his chest, showing he was breathing and a living person.

While Giselher looked strangely thoughtful at these words, Kayleight was smiling nasty thinking of this like a strange joke, Asse not believing a word about this "port to the sky", Reef still somewhere in his dreamland of fisstech and Falka was holding hands with Mistle, both staring at the soldier taxing.

561-103-083 didn't mind the glances of the civilians…or hive gangsters, seeing how they were clothed and armed, she started to become wary of the carriage behind them, taking a step forward she headed for the carriage doors, hoping to find some useful feudal lord or similar to get off this backwater planet, that regarded common as "old language."

Kayleight glared angrily as the soldier suddenly moved towards him and Giselher, heading for the carriage behind him, from which he could only hear some whimpers. The other Rats reacted as the usually do, raising their swords and getting ready to cut down this black trooper as soon as possible.

Only that they missed the time for this, 561-103-083 already got hold of Kayleight's wrist after one step, pulling him out of the saddle easily, and stepping on his arm hearing a satisfying crepitation as he cried out in pain. Giselher's sword already flying towards her helmet bouncing of harmlessly from the plasteel letting the Rat's gasp for air for a moment, just as 561-103-083 aimed her lasgun at a stone next to the street, making a part of it burst and sending charred remains into the air, making the Rats eyes bulge in confusion and…fear, something they hadn't known yet.

Under her helmet 561-103-083 smiled for the first time in this new world, but of course the view of this savages staring at the power of a simple lasgun was quite funny to a Krieger.

"_Damned son of a…"_

Giselher pressed out between his clenched teeth, looking down at the dent in his sword blade and the charred stone, his eyes wandering to the smoking barrel of the strange mans crossbow.

He threw one hand up, gesturing the other Rats to stop, the strange soldier staring at his eyes through this damn expressionless mask.

561-103-083 nodded satisfied, the savages see the difference in weaponry now,

she turned back to the carriage, stepping of Kayleigh's most likely broken arm, not even flinching at his howls of pain, as she walked to the carriage, opening the door and saluting shortly, better safe than sorry.

The young baroness startled up as the carriage door was opened and a hellish black figure stared down at her with a smooth trunk instead of a month.

"DEMON!", she squealed out and the matron had to hold her firmly, so that the young baroness wouldn't loose her composure…even in her last moments.

But this worries were replaced for a moment by blank surprise as the demon thing …saluted….and even if it was strangely…alien, the gesture was recognizable for both of them, the young baroness calming down a little.

Roaming in the pockets of her greatcoat 561-103-083 found a small silver Aquila necklace, holding it out to the young girl, who seemed like a normal noble girl on a feudal world, scared, whiter skin than everyone else, uptight and prude with a black dress, closing up to her neck. **"You heard of the Imperium of Man?"**

Marie, young baroness of Casadei looked at her caretaker for a moment before gathering her courage and reaching out, taking the pendant with trembling hands and looking into the eyes of the…person? Soldier? What did he say?

561-103-083 shook her head disappointed and stepped back, the Aquila may be interesting for the girl, but she didn't knew its meaning. Turning around she moved to one of the horses which pulled the carriage, setting one free she jumped on top of it, slowly trying to get a feeling for the reins used on this world.

The Rats watched the strange soldier with caution Mistle and Ciri close together and their swords ready to swing a mill at him, Kayleigh being able to only glare angrily, his face grimaced in pain.

Looking at the knife eared girl from before 561-103-083 nodded:

"**You will take me to the next star port****."**, in a tone, that gave no chance of saying no.

The Rats just looked shocked at this sentence, only Asse having a faint smile on his lips, looking at the lasgun with a hungry glare, Kayleigh having the same, but with a more murderous intent on the guns owner.

"**The Emperor protects."** 561-103-083 whispered sending a prayer to the Emperor.

And somewhere, orbiting a distant star, on the surface of Holy Terra, sitting in a golden Throne, the most powerful human psyker heard something…and laughed.


End file.
